


Pålegg

by HuiLian



Series: Untranslatable [9]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, Gen, YeetDC2020, dick learning english because i still have nightmares when it was me who learned english, this is so much fluff oh my god, tiny! dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuiLian/pseuds/HuiLian
Summary: Pålegg (Norwergian): Anything and everything you can put on a slice of breador, Alfred baking, then drinking tea with toast, with the tiny addition to the Manor.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Dick Grayson
Series: Untranslatable [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/966711
Comments: 24
Kudos: 154
Collections: Dick & Ensemble, everybody loves dick





	Pålegg

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy tiny! dick with fluff!!!!!!! (sorry for marmite eaters, by the way. Alfred liked it though! And, do dutch people really eat toast with sprinkles? we do that here but I don't think Haly's circus would come to my country.)

When Master Bruce decided to bring a child to the Manor, Alfred was ashamed to say that his first thought was that the Manor is not a suitable environment for a child to grow up, with Master Bruce’s nighttime activities and the lack of warm hands and faces that should accompany children as they grew up. Alfred’s second thought, however, was that Gotham’s child services also lack warm hands and faces, especially for an orphaned, circus brat. His third thought, following logically from the first and second ones, was a determination to do better for this child. (That was probably not the most logical conclusion, but Alfred was sure that his distance and lack of warm embraces to Master Bruce when Master Bruce had been the one growing up played a part in his decision to pursue his nighttime activities. And he would be damned if Gotham’s child services can do better than he could.)

Therefore, here they were, with a child running around the Manor once again. Once Master Dick had begun to feel comfortable with the two of them, of course. At the beginning of his stay, before he found out about the Cave underneath them and Master Bruce’s nighttime activities, Master Dick had shut them out. There were no smiles, laughter, and excitement that Alfred had now associate with the young master. As loathe as Alfred was to admit it, Robin had been good for Master Dick. At least now he began to resemble a carefree child again, though Alfred suspected that some of it was a performance for his and Master Bruce’s eyes. 

Nevertheless, Master Dick was as exuberant now as he must have been with his parents. The child is an acrobat, an athlete, used to hours and hours of training and physical exertion. Even Robin’s training regiment and patrols had not been able to tire him completely, so now Alfred had a child doing handstands on his kitchen countertop while he was trying to bake. More precisely, Alfred had a child trying to find as many poses he can balance while standing on his hands as possible. He normally would not tolerate that kind of behaviour in his kitchen, but the child had just opened up to them. Alfred would not be the cause that made him retreat back into his shell. 

Moreover, Master Dick was a professional trapeze artist. Alfred was sure he had absolute control of his body. 

A thump. It seemed he had spoken too soon. 

Alfred turned from his kneading of the dough and saw that the bag of flour that he left (open) on top of the countertop had fallen to the floor. He also saw a child sitting on the floor, covered head-to-toe with flour. Alfred sighed. A professional trapeze artist he was, Master Dick was still a child. 

“Master Dick! What did I say the condition of you being in my kitchen was?”

“Sorry, Alfie!” Master Dick smiled sheepishly. “I thinked I could hold it?” 

“Thought, not thinked, Master Dick. And that is not what I asked. Remind me, Master Dick, what did I say the condition of you being in my kitchen was?” 

“That I would not make mess of your kitchen?” 

“Yes.” Alfred chose not to correct the boy’s grammar this time. Two in a row is too much to remember, even for a child as bright as him. “And what is that on the floor?” 

“Flour?” Master Dick looked up to him. Lord, he looked even younger like that. 

“A mess, Master Dick.” Alfred tapped Master Dick’s forehead to emphasize his point. 

Master Dick grimaced. “Can I still stay in kitchen if I clean?” 

Alfred was tempted to say no. After all, he would finish quicker if he did not have to watch over Master Dick at the same time. However, Master Dick looked so lost and disappointed that he did not have the heart to banish him from the kitchen. Alfred realized that Master Dick had lived in a trailer, a small trailer, his whole life. He had also been part of a circus. He most likely had never been alone for long periods of time, much less in the impeding silence of an old, big, almost empty house like the Manor. How cold and unyielding this house must be, compared to the small and lively trailer he must have lived in before. 

“If you clean this up, and promise not to make any more messes,” Alfred finally said. 

The grin that answered that proclamation was blinding. It was also infectious. Lethal, if Alfred may say, because he smiled back. 

“The broom is inside the cupboard, Master Dick. The door just outside this room,” Alfred pointed out. Master Dick nodded, then ran out of the room. 

Alfred returned to his kneading. A few moments later, Master Dick came back, bearing a broom that is taller than he was. Alfred stifled a laugh at the sight. A smile and a laugh, within minutes of each other? That child really was something else. 

“Not a speck of flour left when you finish, please, Master Dick.” 

“Yes, Alfie!” 

They worked separately, but together, in silence for a few more minutes. When his dough was no longer sticky, Alfred sneaked a look towards Master Dick. He was carefully sweeping the floor, collecting the flour into a small area of the floor. Alfred did not want to disturb him, so he decided that the dough can use more kneading, after all. 

“Alfie! I’m done!” That grin again. Alfred needed to start building immunity to that grin, because if not, he was going to smile every time Master Dick grinned and that would just not do for his reputation. 

“Very good, Master Dick.” As soon as Master Dick announced that he was done, Alfred also stopped kneading and put the dough to the greased bowl he prepared earlier. “The dough needs to rest. Would you care to join me for some tea?” 

Master Dick nodded vigorously. 

“Would you also like something to eat?” 

Master Dick nodded even more vigorously. Alfred pulled out the very last of the bread he had baked a week ago and toasted them. “What would you like with the toast, Master Dick?” 

Master Dick looked up to him in confusion. “I… thought,” here he stopped, waiting for confirmation that he used the right word. Alfred nodded, encouraging him to go on. “I thought toast is…” He mimed lifting a glass. 

“Ah. It’s a word with two meanings, Master Dick. It can mean that,” Alfred mimed lifting a glass of his own, “or it can mean bread that is cooked again, to brown it.” 

“Oh! Le pain grillé!” 

“Indeed. Now, what would you like with your toast, Master Dick?” 

“What do you like?” 

“I take mine with marmite and butter, Master Dick. But that’s not for everyone.”  _ Not for most people _ , Alfred did not say. “Master Bruce likes his with peanut butter and jam. I’m afraid that’s all the spreads we have for now, Master Dick.” 

“Spread?” 

“Yes. We call things such as jam, peanut butter, and of course, marmite, spreads. I believe it’s because we spread them on toast.” 

Master Dick nodded. Then, with the gravitas of kings deciding on matters of survival of his kingdom, he said, “I try marmite.” 

“Try  _ the _ marmite, Master Dick,” Alfred smiled. “Very well. While we wait for the toast to finish, would you mind telling me what you usually like with toast? I will make sure to purchase that on my next trip to the grocery store.” 

Master Dick fell silent for a moment, then he began to tell the story of everything he remembered he had eaten with bread. The list was expansive, as he was well-traveled, and apparently willing to try everything at least once. That was not what Alfred asked, but he was content to let Master Dick tell the story while he prepared the tea and, after the toast was finished, spread the marmite and butter on the toast. Master Dick told the story in a mix-match of languages, jumping from English to French to Russian to Italian to Spanish to languages Alfred had never heard before and back again. Sometimes Alfred, even though the knew most of those languages, did not understand what he was saying, because he did not know which language the young master was using at the moment. He would ask for clarification then, and provide the English word if there is such, but mostly it was Master Dick who filled the air. 

When the toast was finished, Alfred put the plate in front of Master Dick. Without even stopping in his story⏤he was in the middle of regaling Alfred with the story of eating toast with sprinkles in the Netherlands and even before the story was finished Alfred had resolved that he would not allow that abomination in the Manor⏤he lifted up the toast and took a big bite. 

Master Dick rarely stopped in the middle of telling stories. That was what made him stopping dead in his tracks very amusing. Alfred knew very well what made him stopped, the taste of marmite can be overwhelming if you’ve never had it before. He was about to tell Master Dick just that, but then he saw Master Dick forcing himself to eat the rest of the toast. Alfred decided to let him. 

As much as Master Dick tried to pretend that nothing is wrong, even he could not pretend to enjoy the marmite while he is regaling Alfred with his story. So they finished the toast in silence, a far cry from the chatter that had accompanied Alfred when he prepared the toast. Alfred did not mind though, because Master Dick’s face while he ate the toast was as entertaining as his story before. 

Before he bit into his next toast, however, Alfred decided to spare him. “It’s a peculiar taste, that is true, Master Dick.” 

“Peculiar?” 

“Strange.” 

Master Dick blinked, then said, “No! I like it!” 

Alfred huffed out a breath. “Thank you for the attempt, Master Dick, but you do not have to pretend to like it. I shall know not to give you marmite in the future. As for now, more toast for me, I believe.” Alfred pointed to a container on the cupboard. “You shall have the cookies that I made yesterday in exchange for that toast, Master Dick. A fair trade, is it not?” 

Master Dick calmed down a little, but he still asked, “You’re not mad?” 

“Of course not, Master Dick. I told you before that marmite is not for everyone, didn’t I? Master Bruce did not like it either. It’s a matter of personal preference,” Alfred said. 

Master Dick smiled, and then that smile turned into a grin as he ate the cookies. He resumed his story (Of sprinkles on toast! What a travesty!), and Alfred? Well, Alfred found himself smiling back, despite all the smiles this boy had managed to coax out of him in just a few hours.

**Author's Note:**

> check out my tumblr (huilian.tumblr.com)


End file.
